


Atropa belladonna; Deadly nightshade

by BurrrdBrainedInsomnia



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alpha!Pitch, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy trauma all around, I'm an angry author, Long fic that you should probably drink a lot of coffee to, M/M, Omega!Jack, Slow Burn, Slow Pace, Slowed slow burn, Some angst but mostly just two idiots learning to communicate, Tags added under each chapter if needed, That is a sucker for consent, Unreliable Narrator, lies and manipulation - but not between Pitch and Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29250801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia/pseuds/BurrrdBrainedInsomnia
Summary: The herbs,Jack realized with a start, as a hand snaked to the small of his back, the other holding onto his shoulder -Fuck, he had royally messed up and touched something poisonous, had he not?
Relationships: Jack Frost/Pitch Black
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. A tiny cutling

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a distraction from Embrace the storm and this served just as the right kinda treat for me. Life got heavy and I think I’ve gone slightly insane in lockdown, so hi. Have a chapter of an old fic I’ve had lying about in my drafts for more than a year now.
> 
> There’s gonna be smut at some point, but that’s way in the future, so tbh, if you’re here for that alone then this fic might not be for you. I know ABO tends to be pretty… messy overall, but I’m a sucker for consent. And just so we’re clear, I don’t consider heat as consent. At all. With that outta the way, I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic regardless.  
> -
> 
> Also hi, I don’t know shit about college funds, everything that I have researched has been through two single google searches. Take with that as you will.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

Jack ran the tip of a finger over the expensive marble and gilded gold of the dresser beside him, disturbing the clinging dust, which had gathered over the months, that the cleaning staff assigned to his father’s estate, had failed to get around to take care of it.

A sloppy job from their side for sure, he supposed, but a fair one. No one really came around to this part of the house anyway and it showed. Swirls of dirt from wandering feet had gathered in the rich, intricate designs of the heavy, Persian carpets that stretched out far behind him in the cramped hallway - The sides of it filled with miscellaneous trinkets and other shiny, pretty, little things left behind and quickly forgotten by all but himself and the occasional staff member that cared enough to hide away out here as well.

Not that his father would ever notice, oh no, the bastard was practically married to that hideous chair in his office, but alas, it was not as if the rest of the house, _or his own spouse for that matter_ , really wanted him around anyway.

 _A crude take perhaps_ , Jack reckoned, as he twirled the rich wine in his glass about, before raising the fragile edge to his lip to gingerly sip at it. _A bitter one_ , he thought with an unpleasant grimace tugging at his features, as the deep crimson hit his tongue and lingered for far longer than Jack was completely comfortable with - _bitter but awfully honest as always._

Beside him, a light layer of grey had gathered on the cold plain of the window as well, obscuring the view of the dull glow from the street lamps that cast their deserted surroundings in a dim, and in one case, flickering light. Longingly, Jack stared at the cold pavement stretching out far, bored eyes tracing the gentle fall of the snow outside that quickly swallowed up any colour and replaced it with their pristine, white own, before his eye paused on the edge of where the light at the end of the street no longer reached.

It was a bit eerie really, the way that the sidewalk and the road itself seemed to be swallowed up by the complete darkness that waited ahead, but, he reckoned, there was a sense of peace to it all. A sense of harmony in the way that the shadows seemed to shimmer and beckon the light to falter, as it crept ever closer the longer that Jack willed his stinging eyes to stare at it.

The moment never lingered for long though, the illusion of the creeping dark broken, as soon as his eyes were forced to flutter shut for even the briefest of beats. It was an interesting thing though, he reckoned, interesting how it always seemed to reach and beg for him to-

‘’Funny that, I thought I might find you amongst the garbage.’’

Jack jumped, an indignant yelp leaving him, as the sound of a smooth, equally bored velvet spoke up behind him. Quickly, he turned, the wine in his hand slushing about, a blush high on his cheeks from being startled so rudely, before he huffed a strained little breath and clucked his tongue in annoyance.

‘’Well how kind of you to join me in the dumpster then,’’ Jack greeted right back, as he took in the newcomers unimpressed roll of the eye, the tight tension present in the frown that the other wore. ‘’What?’’ he huffed ‘’you’re hiding as well, aren’t you Pitchy?’’ Jack challenged, to which the other hummed a short, affirmative tune, took a sip from his own half-depleted wine, before all out draining the remainder of the glass in one swift go. Said glass was abandoned on the cleared line in the dust atop the dresser, Pitchs amber annoyed, clearly not up for much small talk, as he nevertheless opted to humor the other,

‘’I am.’’

‘’Lovely. Is my dad still talking about the silk trade or has he moved on to cryptocurrency?’’

‘’Worse,’’ Pitch admitted, as he leaned against the dresser and fished out his phone to type a few angry taps against its cracked display ‘’the discussion has slipped into politics.’’

‘’Ouch,’’ Jack agreed on a little chuckle, as he sipped at his own wine, eyes narrowed, as he took in the ever souring glare that the other threw down at whatever message had just ticked in. A beat of quiet fell over the neglected hallway, Jacks naked heel stabbing against what he reckoned was a tiny pebble hidden amongst the strands of the carpet, as he fidgeted with the fragile stem of his half full glass. ‘’Why are you hiding this time though?’’ he pressed, ‘’Is it politics that’s got you down or has my sister tried to make a move on you again?’’

‘’Ever so talkative,’’ Pitch practically sneered at him, to which Jack merely shrugged in return.

‘’And you're ever so grim.’’ Jack lamented, his feet shuffling restlessly for a beat, before they carried him to the small, tightly packed staircase leading up into what he reckoned was an attic. Not that he had ever managed to scale it, the steps being crowded with all kinds of jars and paper bags of dried herbs that he knew better than to search up the names of. Most of them were probably toxic if consumed. Most of them were probably illegal.

‘’You ever get around to asking Emma if she could teach you a bit about embroidery though?’’ Jack asked, hoping to aim for casual conversation. If the irritated gleam in Pitchs amber eye was anything to go by, he had not been successful.

‘’I was not actually serious last I spoke to you about it.’’

Taken aback, but not really, Jack placed a hand to his chest, voice coated in mock surprise, _‘’you?_ A _liar?’’_ he huffed ‘’what an earthshattering surprise.’’

With a strained intake of breath, Pitch seemed to have to will his focus back onto whatever the second, digital conversation that he was having was about, elbow settled to the dust of the dresser, as he somehow managed to frown harder. ‘’Are you quite done being a pest?’’

Again, Jack shrugged, a single fist coming up to rest against his cheek, as he once more swirled the wine in his glass about. ‘’Nah,’’ he said and then, lower, with eyes cast towards the empty stretch of the hallway behind Pitch, though both knew full well that no one could be within earshot ‘’but since you’re here anyway, I was hoping that you could help me out a bit.’’

Without taking his eyes off the phone in his hand, Pitch hummed a short tune in acknowledgement. ‘’I cannot supply you with any painkillers if that is what you were hoping for.’’

‘’It’s not that.’’

Blinking, Pitchs eyes twitched for a beat at the serious change of tone in Jacks hushed voice, amber losing their interest on the second conversation, as the former focused his full attention back onto Jack. ‘’What has happened?’’

On a stiff, little shrug, Jack pressed his cheek further against his fist, knuckles digging into the soft skin beneath his eye, as said eye caught on the neat stitching that raced across the others tie, the fine gold that pinned it shut. _Seriously_ , Jack reckoned, as he, for the first time that night, had a chance to look the other over - _Pitch always dressed far too neatly for these kind of lame business events disguised as a polite dinner party that Jacks father threw, but considering that the other represented his own father in return, he thought it fair._

‘’It’s nothing too serious,’’ Jack started, as he took a small sip of his half-forgotten wine, face screwing up from the bitter tang, as he sucked in his lips in an attempt to rid himself of its lingering sting. ‘’Or well, it kinda is. Just... Okay _look_ \- scratch all of that, it’s pretty serious, but I should be able to fix it,’’ he said, Jack taking a shallow breath, working lips hidden behind the rim of his glass. ‘’My mother went and cancelled my college funds again.’’

Beside him, the amber narrowed, a sharp gleam present, as Pitch inclined his head ever so slightly. ‘’Again?’’ he asked on an urgent tone that seemed just invested enough that Jack felt a small flicker of hope flutter about in his chest ‘’as in she has done this before?’’

‘’She’s hoping that I’ll drop out.’’ Jack hummed on another slight shrug, the fingers that rested to cold glass drumming against the edge of the wider circle at the bottom, as Pitchs brow shot up in surprise.

‘’Why would she want for something like that?’’ Pitch pressed on a voice that did not quite sound convinced. ‘’How does that make sense if you are to take over in your fathers stead?’’

A hesitant smile formed on Jacks lip, the nervous tic in it quickly hidden behind the rim of his glass again, as he filled his mouth with bitter wine instead of instantly offering up an answer to that. ‘’Last I heard, or I guess, the last time I _argued_ with her over this whole thing, she told me that it’s improper for me to be in such a public space.’’

‘’I thought you said that your college was privately funded?’’

‘’It is.’’

‘’So how, Jack, how exactly does this make any sense?’’

‘’Look, _would you help me out or not?_ ’’ Jack snapped a little harsher than he had meant to and instantly regretted it, as the curious gleam in Pitchs eye faded, the shared want for any scheming plans snuffed, as the meager interest was once more replaced with something cold and distant.

A dry scoff sounded from the other and already, Jack knew that he had lost his only possible, if usually pretty indifferent and uncaring to his general needs as a whole, ally.

‘’Suit yourself.’’ Pitch clipped, the attention for the conversation lost, as he once more focused back onto the digital one that had rather aggressively buzzed in his hand instead.

A tense quiet fell, Pitchs body turned away from the other, as Jack turned his own and stared at the dusted reflection of the window in front of him. The ankle made the entire thing look off – the vacant black of the sky mixed with the glare of the naked lightbulb inside the hallway painting the framed glass in a strange, doubled effect of two worlds that were whole but could never quite exist in the same, tangible space.

Minutes passed, the moments crawling by at a snail’s pace, before Jacks fragile sense of patience snapped. On bare, restless feet, he got up, the hand that had worried at a strand of dried herb careful not to stray too close to his lip or face in general, each of the three steps down conducted in the pressing silence that lingered, before Jack came to a polite halt a little ways from the other.

Idly, though he could not pinpoint the exact moment that it had happened, Jack noted the light disarray that he had made of his hair, as he caught sight of his own, disheveled reflection in the grand mirror that hung just beside and slightly above the dresser, which Pitch seemed to have temporarily claimed for his own.

‘’So uh,’’ Jack started on a slight mumble, as he swiftly raked a hand through his hair in order to correct it ‘’do you know if the cost is clear enough for me to slip into the pantry?’’

‘’Not if you wish to go undetected.’’

 _‘’Gotcha,’’_ Jack, glad that the other was still willing to engage in light chatter, answered back with a hesitant smile, his hands busy, experienced in their dance, as they smoothed out the wrinkles that had lingered in his shirt. ‘’Do you know if…’’ Jack continued, before trailing off, as a subtle but insistent tingling started up in the back of his throat. Thickly, he swallowed, the tip of his tongue worrying over the back of his teeth, as a strange sensation snapped down his spine. ‘’If the…’’ he tried again, the words dying out on his tongue, before they could properly form.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noted the curious way that Pitchs brow furrowed, as he tried to stutter his sentence out in confusion. _‘’Fuck,’’_ was all that Jack managed on a thin, winded voice that was excessively weak for his own liking, the wine in his tremoring fingers tipping dangerously. Pitchs hand caught his before the glass could slip from numb fingers, the other quick to discard said glass and phone on the dresser beside, as one of his freed palms snatched out to steady Jack.

‘’Jack?’’ Pitch pressed on an attentive voice as cold, as it was urgent.

A sickening sweetness spread out from the back of Jacks throat then, momentarily stealing the breath from his lungs, as the sharp taste pressed up and out through his mouth. It left his thoughts in tatters, his scalp tingling in a way that was anything but pleasant. Vaguely, Jack gradually became aware of the death grip that he kept on Pitchs upper arm, his arm shaking from the strain of it.

 _‘’Jack?’’_ Pitch tried again, the tone more urgent this time, to which Jack squeezed his eyes shut to the point of it hurting.

‘’I don't,’’ Jacks mouth ran dry, as the foreign tingling that started from his scalp and ran all the way down to the tips of his toes spread out and raced along the curved edge of his spine. ‘’I don’t,’’ he tried again, forcing the words out, as something in his stomach started to painfully clench _‘’I don’t feel so good.’’_

 _The herbs,_ Jack realized with a start, as a hand snaked to the small of his back, the other holding onto his shoulder - _Fuck, he had royally messed up and touched something poisonous, had he not?_

Pitch caught him, as the line of tension in his spine drew taut and left Jack stumbling, a startled _oh_ falling from quivering lips, as the latter’s legs started to shake to the point of him having difficulty standing. He was aware that the hold on him shifted, the firm grip moving him about, the scent of the dust from the carpets heavy on his senses for all of a beat, before Jack was hoisted up and carried off.

 _‘’Pitch,’’_ Jack roughed with the need for reassurance, vision blurred and warped, as he squeezed his eyes shut again in an attempt to block the nauseating visage out. Truly, it was too much to focus on anything in particular, even the slightest bit of movement or turn in light leaving him with vertigo.

It could have been minutes, could have been a matter of mere seconds, before the sound of a door being nudged open sounded and his back graced to something solid and blessedly cool. _Fuck_ , Jack thought, as what he reckoned to be a towel was wedged under his head to serve as a shield against the unyielding surface of the tub that he had been laid down into – _why was it so warm?_

The strange, tingling sensation wrecked through him, stronger this time and on a weak little whimper, Jacks back arched off of the cold porcelain on its own accord. His body felt foreign to him, instincts overtaken by something that he did not quite understand, his palms hot and clammy, shirt stuck to overheated skin, as his legs rubbed against each other.

Harshly, he grinded his teeth together, eyes snapping open in shock, as the realization that his inner thighs were growing damp dawned on him.

 _‘’What-?’’_ Jack cried, as Pitch kneeled beside the tub and reached out a hand to snatch something metallic close, the attached coil making a rough scraping noise, as it slid along the edge of the tub. _‘’What is happening to me?’’_ he pressed, Jack flinching at the soft touch of blessedly cool water hitting his scalp, his eyes growing blurry once more, as a haze overtook them. Firmly, a palm kept gently petting over his hair, Pitchs fingers tangled in his white strands, as they worked to cool him down.

‘’You're going into heat.’’

‘’I'm _what?’’_

‘’Heat,’’ Pitch repeated, as Jack drew a scared little breath that, by the sounds of it, burned all the way down.

‘’I don't understand,’’ Jack snapped on a voice void of any jest, his expression genuinely confused, when his own mind tried and failed to connect the dots between whatever the definition of heat and herbs had to do with each other. Fingers found the back of his neck and pressed against something soft and yielding, Pitch humming at whatever he felt, the tone strained but focused, as he moved the hose and unceremoniously doused Jacks neck with cool water as well.

‘’Is this your first?’’

‘’My first _what?’’_ Jack rasped on a breath that rattled around the edges, the tone wet and terrified, as the absolute absurdity of the impossible situation finally hit him. ‘’Pitch, I’m a _beta.’’_

Pitchs hand momentarily froze against Jacks temple, the sound of running water loud in the heating air of the room, as the former stared in plain shock - a look of dawning horror present on his sharp features, as Jack finally managed enough strength to look up at him. Still, Pitch did not offer up any reply to that, his amber wary and narrowed, as Jack turned his head and sobbed in distress. Slowly, as absent as the gesture was instinctual, Pitch turned the omegas head further to the side and shielded the ear closest to himself with a hand, his voice sounding truly angered, a hint of something disgusted wavering in his voice, as he turned his own head to the still open door to bark out a single name,

_‘’Katherine!’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s probably gonna be implied pretty heavily along the lines of the next coming chapters, but in case I don’t lay it on heavily enough, Jacks family has been lying to him about his nature. This fic really isn’t gonna be gentle throughout a lot of it, but we’ll see how it goes.


	2. Rotted roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bit of scheming happens and a heavy choice vaguely roars itself to life on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hacker voice* _‘’I’m in.’’_  
>   
>  Sorry in advance to any tech-savvy person who has to read through this nonsense with their own two eyeballs. Look, I don’t know shit about coding. Google was my friend and it’s a friend that I hope won’t betray me with what knowledge it threw at me.  
>   
> Aight, enjoy <3

_‘’Oh for fucks-‘’_ Jack stared at his screen, the subtle clicking of his nail tapping impatiently to the laptops surface of hard, black plastic loud, as he waited for the small cafés Wi-Fi to get itself together and connect him back onto the call, that it had so rudely interrupted. The static image on the screen flickered for a second, the sound in Jacks earbuds sparking back to life with a slightly metallic edge, before Jamies frozen image finally moved.

‘’-s to present itself through the confines of-‘’

‘ _’Ah_ , sorry Jamie, could you repeat?’’ Jack quickly butted in before the other could get too far ahead. Jamies working mouth paused, the light smile that he wore growing ever thinner with each turn and interruption of the unstable connection. ‘’Something about the communication channel? You flaked out just around the part about making the transmission of data more robust,’’ he said a tad sheepishly, to which Jamie drew a slightly irked inhale and nevertheless repeated the requested part, before adding a bit more information onto the basics of error detection, as Jack bid him to do as much.

‘’Is it working?’’ Jamie asked, the little icon on Jacks taskbar blinking for attention, as the former sent a string of code in his direction. Softly, Jack hummed a short, slightly annoyed tune in reply, as he stared at the little, vacant window that had yet to respond to his furious clicking.

‘’I can’t even see what you sent me yet, it’s still loading.’’ The plain white ceramic that held his purchased coffee was warm against his palm, as Jack snatched it close and drank deep, the subtle bustling of the place serving as the perfect distraction, the space a neutral safe haven for more than just his nocturnal self. Most of the other regulars huddled around him seemed perfectly content in minding their own business and in turn, that suited Jack just fine. After all, this was the only place where he could have these kinds of sessions with Jamie, without either of them being disturbed by any prying eyes, that might have enough mind, to catch on to what they were doing. ‘’Aight, hold on for a bit, I think I got it,’’ Jack mumbled, as he went to copy the received text that had finally revealed itself, only to have his chat-box freeze on him. Tiredly, Jack drew a deep breath in through his nose, patience running thinner along with the increasingly annoyed gleam in Jamie’s narrowed, knowing eye.

Jamie glanced down then, a small, irritated grin stretching over his features, as he scratched at the hem of his woolen shirt, the movement making the rough, knitted lines of it dance in a sequence of thick black and white and roaring shades of brilliant red. ‘’Look man, I gotta go soon. Ombric is gonna kill me if I don’t finish up the rest before tomorrow.’’

‘’Can’t you just say Marmalade ate your router?’’

‘’Marmalade’s dead Jack, that’s not funny.’’

Lightly, Jack shrugged, mentally scolding himself for the slipup, the fingers on his mug gripping tighter, as he swallowed his nerves behind a generous gulp of coffee. As it was, the filter between his brain and mouth was not nearly as strong as the organic ones that the café used. _Especially_ not at this hour of the night. ‘’Sorry if it’s crude, but Ombric doesn’t know that,’’ he said, in a way that he hoped sounded as genuinely apologetic, as he meant for it to be. If the tense huff that sounded in his ear was anything to go by, it had not worked. ‘’Aight, hold on,’’ Jack said, as he opted to stall for time before the other decided that enough was enough and call quits on their current session. Just a little longer. A little bit longer yet and they would be done for the night. ‘’I gotta send you something real quick.’’

The shitty connection took forever to respond, but the distraction worked perfectly, the pixelated olive branch serving its purpose, as it, by some miracle, went through without a hitch as soon as he had hit send.

 _‘’Hah!’’_ Jamie barked a harsh, gritting laugh in surprise. _‘’Are you seriously trying to bribe me with pictures of bunnies?’’_

Again, Jack shrugged. ‘’Well, is it working?’’ he pressed, to which Jamie snickered in an irked manner, that still sounded entirely too thin, the edges coated in annoyance, as he shook his head at the others antics.

‘’Actually, yeah, it totally is,’’ Jamie admitted, though it hardly sounded sincere. A beat of silence fell, the uncomfortable moment stretching on, before whatever emotion, that flashed across Jamies face, caused a deep, drawn-out sigh to leave him. ‘’You got all the notes down that you need for now though, or do you need me to quickly run through it again?’’

Jacks eyes shot to the side, a brief beat of cold fright rising in his chest, before he swallowed it down and forced his eyes back to the wavering image before him. Even if someone were to look at his screen, then they would hardly be able to understand what it was, that he was working on.

Hell, Jack hardly understood all of it himself.

‘’Nah, it’s fine, I think I got what I needed,’’ he said, as he copied and pasted the gifted code that Jamie had toiled over into the script. Jacks foot tabbed against the leg of the rocky table that he sat at, the spaces between his naked toes worrying around the cold bend of metal, worn flip-flop mindlessly falling to the tiles below with a dull little _thump_ , as he waited with a held-back breath for the program to load.

Around him, the neglected plants of the café all seemed to shiver and sway along with Jacks fidgeting fingers that mindlessly tore the busted seem of his sleeve wide open, his mouth drawn taut, the starved, evergreen leaves of the Ficus beside him rustling, causing Jack an unpleasant shiver, as he turned his head in confusion.

_Ah,_

Someone had merely passed too close to the dying tree, the crook of an arm cradling a newspaper and what seemed a bag of two, colourful bagels brushing up against withered branches and knocking the curled up greens and greys loose and-

_‘’Earth to Jack?’’_

On the screen before him, Jamie’s brow had raised in a manner that seemed entirely unimpressed, restless fingers drumming against a bended knee, as he waited for Jack to respond to the task at hand.

‘ _’Ah_ ,’’ it worked smoothly as Jack booted it back up, hardly anything of notice standing out, as he ran the program through. It had been five grueling weeks of them meeting like this. Of stale coffee that went far beyond any fair, sensible price. Of a shitty connection, that seemed dead set on causing as much of a fuzz as it could, but finally, the sought for result showed in the lines of responding code before him. ‘’Thank you,’’ Jack said, his voice lower this time, a thoughtful gravity present in his tone, as the heavy weight in his chest, along with the pressing ice, that constricted the beating organ of his heart, even if just a little bit, eased. ‘’This really means a lot to me.’’

‘’Look man, I’m just happy to help.’’

 _That_ at least sounded sincere.

‘’Yeah I know, but you’re still great for it, aight?’’

Idly, Jack stretched out his leg, toes searching about in the empty space above the deep creases that remained between the tiles of the cafés floors for a beat, before they managed to retrieve their fallen, poor excuse for a footwear.

Jamie threw him a small smile, the pixelated image briefly freezing, skipping a beat along with Jacks heart, before it flowed smoothly again. ‘’-eally gotta go though,’’ Jamie insisted on the shrill metallic tune that accompanied the start of that small sentence, as he once more glanced down and then slightly off to the side, in the direction of what Jack knew was where the others front door was located. ‘’Call me up on Friday if you get any trouble with it.’’

‘’Don’t you have to prepare for chemistry this weekend though?’’

‘’I can spare the time Jack, don’t worry about it.’’

Jack briefly worried the inside of his lip between his teeth, brow lightly furrowed, before he nodded once. ‘’I’m sorry for bringing Marmalade up.’’ Jack said, to which the other huffed at him, Jamie shaking his head, as he leaned back and shrugged a slightly noncommittal shoulder in an irked, silent reply. A tad stiffly, he tapped two fingers to the edge of his laptop, causing Jack to winch, at the rather harsh noise, which cracked through the latter’s earbuds.

‘’Don’t set this up to the main system before we’re _sure_ that it’s gonna run smoothly,’’ Jamie stressed, as he completely glazed over the second mention of his dead dog. ‘’Last thing I want is to get in trouble with your dad if he finds out about this.’’

‘’Or the authorities,’’ Jack added, to which Jamie grinned a crude smile, a hint of teeth glinting.

‘’Or that, yeah,’’ Jamie agreed on a voice void of any fear, the tune riddled with scheming mischief, as something dangerous seemed to pass through his gaze. Perhaps it was from their last five failed attempts in the past with lesser cases, perhaps it was from something else entirely that caused his else confident smirk to falter slightly, as Jamie cast one last glance to what Jack guessed was his clock. ‘’Aight, I really gotta dash. See you around Jack.’’

‘’Yeah, don’t worry about it,’’ Jack agreed and then proceeded to stare at his own reflection, his working mouth paused, lips stuttering short around the belated _‘see ya’,_ as the window promptly went black from the call just ended.

Beside him, a single, curled up leaf from the Ficus gave up and fell to the tiles below, the sounds of a bagel being rather viciously consumed in the back making its presence known as well, as the subtle flow of the small cafés activities pressed back into awareness around him.

Rapidly, Jack blinked, his eyes stinging slightly, as he took in his own, exhausted features on the screen before him. Truly, he looked far more tired than he was comfortable with, his naturally pale features seeming more hollow, more lifeless, as it glared back at him.

A sigh fell from frowning lips, a stiff finger rapping against his own cheek, before he closed the app and swiftly set to work on reading through the additional files that Jamie had sent him.

\--

\- Two months later -

_‘’Ew, Jack.’’_

A small ray of sunlight from the morning sun had stubbornly crept its way in under the blinds that Jack had carefully pulled down, the little shimmer of warm, golden light painting the wall in front of Emma’s bed in a single, straight line.

‘’What?’’ Jack answered his sister back on a slightly puzzled tone, as he gingerly drew the rough comb through her tangled mop that wanted to call itself hair, the movement of his hand kept slow, each stroke deliberate and working its way upwards to avoid any pain. For a beat, it seemed that the other had already forgotten her rather direct exclaim, before Emma, clearly restless with her legs kicking about into the empty air before her, shifted a bit on the bed.

‘’You smell weird,’’ she noted, with all the subtlety that such a young heart did not possess.

‘’Ah, yeah, sorry about that,’’ Jack huffed without the easy comfort between them dwindling in the least. ‘’I helped mum out with packing up a few herbs for the conference,’’ he said, a soft little smile forming on his face, as he placed a hand to the side of his sisters head, the palm pressing close, to get her to move it back into a forwarded position. ‘’Demand’s gone up for her perfume again.’’

In front, Emma scrunched up her nose, features set in a confused manner. ‘’Gross,’’ she concluded, causing a short tune of pearly laughter to leave Jacks grinning mouth, as he fondly shook his head at her.

‘’You really don’t like them, huh?’’ he asked, to which she jerked her own head in a swift negative, her hair flying about her face in the process, disturbing Jacks careful work.

‘’Na-ah,’’ Emma said, her nose upturned like the spoiled little sweetheart that she was. ‘’They make you stink.’’

The comb paused, the coarse, plastic rows of the lined bristles stuck in oblivious, brown strands. ‘’Is it that bad?’’

 _‘’Yep,’’_ she chimed in a sing-song manner, Jacks hand that snapped out in an attempt to halt her closing around empty air, the brush in his other mercifully gliding free easily, as she prematurely, as always, deemed the pampering enough, stretched out her legs and happily bounced off the bed. ‘’They’re gross,’’ she lamented for one last time with an air of affronted finality, colourful threads and the sharp glint of needles flashing in the thin ray of the early morning sun, as she located her gear and set to pack it into her backpack along with her school-supplies.

A prolonged beat passed, Jack merely sat as he was, slumped but content to just watch her prance around to get herself ready.

 _It was a bit creepy_ , he reckoned – _even if he had hardly touched the herbs for more than a tenth minute in the night just passed, she always caught on to it so quick._

Before him, Emma stood up from her crouched position, the schoolbag that she slung over her shoulder stuffed with colours and the heavy burden of papered knowledge.

‘’Are you gonna be there to pick me up today?’’ she asked and a tad sheepishly, Jack scratched his nails over the back of his neck, a slightly forlorn grin taking to his features, as he had to further disappoint her, as he had had to do throughout the last week as well.

‘’Dad’s gonna need me to go over a few things with a potential client in the afternoon,’’ Jack apologized on a little shrug, the comb absently abandoned on the dresser beside the bed, as he got up as well to at least show her to the front door. ‘’But I’ll be here when you get back, aight?’’ he tried on a hopeful smile.

Emma merely glared at him, an annoyed gleam that seemed far too disappointed for his sleep-deprived heart to deal with roaring its accusations at him. Clearly down-trod, she started on ahead, her little hand grabbing his and tugging him with,

_‘’Whatever, Jack.’’_

\--

\- Three weeks later –

_It was a shame, really_.

Mindless fingers picked at the soft petals of the flowers, which sat in the painted vase on the grand table before him, Jacks nail skimming up over the side of a thorn, that had carelessly been left behind, by whichever florist had been picked for the job.

_A shame how the colours decided on did not quite match up, the circling pattern too ambitious, the red thread that was supposed to draw the attention back to the center of the piece lost entirely to the wild chaos of the Foxglove strewn in seemingly at random._

_No matter though,_ Jack thought to himself, as a slight frown took to his lip over the poor attempt at balancing in colour and shape – _come morning, it would have to be discarded anyway. Just another bouquet left to rot in the trash. Another night wasted for the sake of him showing a happy face amongst the sharks that his father had invited along for the evening._

The sharp point of the thorn pricked the tip of his index finger, as Jack pressed down a little too hard on it.

_Another feast thrown in the name of capitalism._

Lost in thought, it took him a beat to realize, that he had been spoken to.

_‘’Sorry, what?’’_

‘’Your homeschooling,’’ William helpfully repeated on a chipper smile from a little ways down the packed table, a flash of gold from his watch ghosting against the intricate lace of the ridiculously wide table runner, as he prodded the flat of his fork against a naked potato ‘’how’s it all coming along?’’

A tad too stiffly to be considered casual, Jack shrugged, as he threw William what he hoped strayed close to an equally laidback grin. ‘’It’s going pretty great so far actually. Fog’s been a great teacher.’’

‘’Oh?’’ William exclaimed on a tune that sounded genuinely interested, his smile warm and welcoming, as the potato cracked from pressure, leaving light tendrils of steam to drift from its exposed core. ‘’So you’re still studying psychology?’’

‘’Criminal psychology, yeah,’’ Jack gently corrected around the small bite of his own dinner, the mastication slowed in the hopes that the spontaneous conversation would as well. ‘’That, and a bit of trading and general economics as well, you know, along with all the rest. It’s been pretty chill though, but we’ll see. Petter wanna up the difficulty, but… _Yeah, I dunno_ ,’’ he lamented and then, more quietly, with an expression that could count as sheepish, ‘’I don’t really have much input over how it’s all gonna pan out in the end, but I’m still a bit ahead of schedule for now, so we’re good.’’

William opened his mouth to say something else, curious lips already moving to prod a little further, a little deeper for the details that Jack knew he could not give, when the one sitting next to the man reached a hand across the table – obscuring the others view, as it snatched up a grape from one of the numerous trays that littered about.

To Jacks luck and great relief, the movement was enough to distract, to break the mutual line of sight, just long enough, that he deemed it safe to quietly excuse himself from the easily dropped conversation. Stiffly, he kept his eyes directed ahead, gaze once more lost to the floral mess that had made itself at home in the crowded vase before him, until another flourish of words told of Williams focus being swept up into another conversation with those surrounding the gentle brute of a man.

Not that Jack did not like to engage in polite chatter like this, but these events tended to be a bit too crowded for him to really be able to follow along with what the people around him were saying, let alone hear his own thoughts over their need to be heard in lieu of actually _listening_ in return.

 _Talking heads_ , Emma had called them once amidst gentle laughter and the frayed edges of an old card game, and idly, Jack had wondered from whom she had picked up such a scathing tune for what was else neutral words.

His eyes once more stared straight ahead at the deep indigo of one of the spiraling flowers, that rested well below the rest of its brethren, the crown practically fallen out of its painted porcelain. A small huff left him, as he noted the broken state of the stem itself.

_It was probably their father that had taught her that phrase._

On a deep breath that rattled a tad around the edges, Jack willed his gaze away from the sad display of the dying beauty before him, his focus settling about, looking for another shiny distraction that could relieve his mind and possibly-

Oh. Fuck.

_Great,_

Promptly, a sour taste invaded his mouth, as the subject of one of the hushed - but not hushed _enough_ , not _nearly_ _enough to be considered polite in the least, and that was the point, was it not?_ \- conversations taking place further down the table started to venture into a territory, that he would rather not be a part of despite the quick glance that was shot in his direction. _‘’So has he set his eyes on a mate yet?’’_

Somehow, the frown on his face deepened further, the light gossip ignored, as he made a point out of not humoring their prodding curiosity.

_Vultures. All of them. What a despicable, meddling lot to mingle with,_

The steaming lobster before him, that he had opted to neglect on his plate, swam about in its thick, cooling, white sauce, as he fished out his phone, Jacks finger moving to immediately dim the light of his screen, as he quietly engaged himself in its display. Three lines of neon green and a hint of pink still cut across the screen from where he had accidently bumped it a tad too hard against the counter once, but regardless of that, he still felt his heart speed up at the single message that waited for him. A little flutter making itself know in his chest, as he instantly recognised the senders name,

09.32 pm – Message from: Jamie

_‘Is the fox loaded?’_

Jack popped one of the small lemon candies that he had spirited away from Emma’s room earlier into his mouth, free hand tapping away at the keys. Absently, he touched the other to his pocket, fingers skimming over the depression in the fabric where the flash drive that he had had safely tugged away in it was currently missing. Indeed, the little seed had been left behind beyond the door that was else supposed to stay locked, the hope that its coded roots had embed themselves well and truly deep high and alive, but alas. It had required a bit of picking, a whole lot of patience and a whole lot of fright on his part, but it would be worth it in the end. It had to be.

09.33 pm - Seen

_‘In the henhouse. Fox is ready. Connection is secure’_

While keeping his face as impassive as he could, Jack bit the inside of his cheek, tongue lulled around the hard candy, as he waited for the confirmation that it was operating true to its design.

Minutes passed, a crude, startled laughter sounding somewhere at the far end of the table, the chime of it gritting in its schadenfreude, wrecking through the air in a manner that was both as rude as it was accepted with the amount of spirits presented behind labeled bottles and fine, high glass.

 _Vultures_ , Jack thought, as his nail skimmed to the plastic of his phone cover, the wilted flowers before him agreeing in their silent doom – _all of them. Picking on dead flesh and gutting out the fresher-_

Finally, the insistent frown eased a tad, a little glimmer sparking back in Jacks eye, as another message ticked in with a vibrating shatter,

09.38 pm – Message from: Jamie

_‘Now or never’_

Jack smiled down at the three little words, a giddy fluttering in his chest from the rush of it all aiding the mindless twitch of his fingers, as they tightened around the phone in his hand. It had worked. His part in this was over for now, nothing left to do on his end but wait. Wait and stand by for further instruction when the next phase of their careful infiltration of his father’s main server would be set in motion.

_Still, they were on. They were finally fucking doing it._

The tip of a finger worried to the edge of his phone, hovering for a beat in its reluctance to reply further in such a crowded sitting, before it moved, the little button on its side pressed to make the screen go black. He knew that they only had one shot at this, a small window of time to test it out without either of their meddling affairs being noticed by any eyes that it was not meant for.

_A dangerous gamble indeed. A dangerous, but necessary one._

With his own spirits feeling all the higher for it, Jacks amused gaze traced the ornamental swirl of the silver plates that were strewn across the table, keeping his head perfectly in place, as he braved himself another quick sweep of the ones gathered and engaged in oblivious chatter around him.

To his left, Katherine was locked in a fierce debate that was quickly growing heated, the tone that treated the topic with obvious scorn treading out onto a plain that sounded anything but friendly. Whatever it was, she seemed steadfast, mind made up about the whole ordeal that was being presented to her through the working lips of one quickly realizing that they had bitten over more than they could chew.

 _Politics_ , Jack reckoned, as his eyes jerked to the side and noted the one person that somehow managed to both perfectly blend in and still stand out like a sore thumb – _it was probably politics casting strife between the gathered again_. A lazily clenched fist pressed to Pitchs high cheek, the flash of gleaming amber alert but disinterested in the topic at hand, as he hummed along to whatever was being said.

 _If anything_ , Jack thought to himself with a semblance of calm easing the corner of his mouth up into something that almost came close to presenting itself as gentle - _Pitch seemed as bored with the whole façade, as Jack was._

The amber narrowed, a slight blankness taking to its warm hue, as the topic - _ah, right, child labour, what a cherry debate to discuss over champagne and lobster indeed -_ slipped into one that somehow managed to present itself as even more tedious and insensitive than the last. The attention in the others gaze moved from one state to the other, a careful apathy roaring around the cracks of the man’s own restless energy and in return, Jack held the others gaze, as it turned, the indifferent gleam in Pitchs eye lingering on him in a way that could almost be read as conspiratorial.

_The blabbering shark that Katherine was debating had smelled blood though, the demand for clarification and a worded stance on its own faltering tries for legitimacy breathed out between clenched teeth and redder cheeks yet._

_Idiot,_ Jack thought, as he caught a few of the hastily yelped out reasoning’s as to why a child should ever be put in harm’s way for the sake of cold coin – _what a dumb, fucking asshat._

If the slight twitch in Pitchs transfixed amber was anything to go by, then the sentiment was mutual.

A tad too cheerily, Jack winked in sympathy, his slight grin hidden behind the sparkling edge of the rosé that he had grabbed close. It bubbled deliriously on his tongue, the sharp flavour pleasant despite its bitter tinge, as the greedy chatter taking place to his left continued to increase its desperate crescendo in an attempt to disguise itself as anything but just exactly that.

 _And really_ , Jack mused, own gaze narrowed with an elated mirth, as the soft pink in his glass clouded his mind and smoothed out the worst of his tingling nerves - _he would always find the way that the other blinked impressive, the roll of his amber eye timed perfectly with the incline of his head, as Pitch shifted his weight on his fist, focus sliding onto another, less bloodthirsty madam to his own immediate left, the subtle motion done so smoothly and practiced, that it may not even have been there to begin with at all._

Impertinent bastard.

 _Or clever_ , Jacks thoughts settled, as he took another generous sip at the rosé – _probably more clever than anything._

To his left, the debate finally died down, the shark giving up its frenzied defenses with a grit out scoff, and what sounded a great deal like an improper curse fallen from offended lips.

 _Or cunning,_ Jack mused on, as he accepted that Pitch had opted to ignore him again. _Yeah, cunning had a nice ring to it_.

_Impertinent and cunning._

Come hell and high waters, it would be a long hour yet, a great distance to watch the curved pointers in the old grandfather clock in the corner of the crowded room crawl about in their carved circle of a frame, before either of them could rightfully allow themselves to slip out and hide.

-

It was well into the night, a quiet hush haven fallen over the estate, after the last of the guests had taken their - at least on one particular shark of a gentleman’s behalf - rather drunken leave, the place deserted of any life, except for the stale leftovers left behind on plates and needlessly expensive platters. The scent in the room was still strong despite that, the neglected champagne in one glass perhaps forgotten or purposely ignored, left to a quiet retirement, as the last of its bubbles had long since died out.

_The vultures had left. All of them, fled, leaving nothing but a carcass behind._

In horror, back in the present, Jack stared up at her, the painful clenching in his chest squeezing itself tighter yet, as the realization of what his mother had just said truly started to register through the instant buzz in his mind. His shoulders squared, mouth jerking back into an angered grin, teeth glinting in the low lights of the few, flickering candles strewn across the table, that had been left to burn out on their own.

‘’No,’’ he said, tone firm and perhaps a little more frightened than he wished for it to be.

‘’This _will_ be necessary, Jack.’’

 _‘’No,’'_ Jack repeated, a tad harder, the tone firmer this time, the insistent beat of lingering fear shoved down further yet in its attempted smothering of his own resolve. Hardly, he heard the rest of her convictions, her pleading wish for solidarity in something so crude, as his heart pounded in his ears from the unjust gravity of the responsibility that she had put on his shoulders.

_The invading vultures had fled. All of them, fled, the nest secured,_

More justifications were offered into the heavy air between them, unspoken accusations harsh, remaining trapped in her throat, on the tip of her tongue, ready to be unleashed at a moment’s notice should he refuse the order.

_But the nest was hungry as well, was it not? Invasive fungi living off of its inhabitants,_

The attempt towards building a bridge between the worded reasoning and sensibility was obvious on her part, and in turn, Jack laughed a shrill little tune that mercifully, finally, seemed to give his carnivorous mother pause. She stared at him, eyes narrowed and confused as for the sudden turn in tone - the sway of shadows cast on the wall dancing from the movement, as Jack stumbled a single step backwards, but else managed to keep himself from running.

‘’You really don’t care about what I want at all, do you?’’ Jack lamented and to his horror, she only stared harder. He swallowed something thick and pained then, his fate sealed, set in stone from the start, as something in her gaze turned flinty.

‘’You will carry through with this honey,’’ she said, voice sounding far too soft for something so cruel. ‘’For all of us, you’ll have to.’’

Beside the two, a single of the lingering candles flames guttered out with a hiss, Jacks hands fisted by his sides, nails digging into his palms, knuckles painted in a stark white, as his mouth jerked up into a grin void of any joy, any true acceptance for such a ludicrous demand, as he spat out a crude, harsh,

_‘’Fine.’’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m projecting like hell. I can’t write healthy family-dynamics for shit. It’s not getting better from here, just fyi.  
> Next up, a heavy choice is made and an unlikely, albeit be it reluctant, ally is dragged into the rescue. Is that vague enough? Or am I worse than a Marvel trailer?  
> \--  
> Anyway, hi. Hope whoever’s reading this is doing good. Aight, catch you on the next one <3


	3. A heavy dose of pruning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes about as it pleases until it suddenly doesn't. Or, in other words, things are chill until they aren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My metaphors are cheesy and I fully intend to grab the cheddar to make it worse. Maybe some mozzarella as well while we’re at it. And some feta. Fuck, I miss feta.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

_Something was beating repeatedly to his windowsill, the sound of thin sheets of plastic rubbing against each other, tangled cords like frozen wires colliding with the hard wood of the-_

With a start, Jack shot up in his chair, instantly winching, crying out softly, as a great pain split through the forefronts of his skull and all the way to the back of his neck.

_The moon's fucking-_

Had he fallen asleep? Jack mused to himself, as the meat of his palm dug into his tightly shut eye, free hand snapping out, fumbling about and knocking neglected papers around on the desk, as they sought for the swift relief of the only remedy that seemed to work against the kinds of headache that he felt forming like a tight band around his whole head.

It took a beat, the taste of salt forming in his mouth, in the back of his throat, before finally, his hand closed around the little pouch that contained his medicine. Fingers worked the knot that bound it shut, a bitter tang spreading out amongst the salt, after Jack had fished out two of the pills and made to dry swallow them down.

 _If anything, the cool breeze that swept in from the slightly cracked window in front helped as he sat as he was,_ _leg pricked by pins and needles until the chemicals in his system had spread enough that the band around his pounding head started to lessen enough that he could safely open his eyes without immediately being treated to a dizzy-spell._

Right.

_So far so good._

The pressing darkness of the outside that greeted him, as he wedged two fingers in under his blinds and gently lifted them enough to get a peek, told him what he needed to know. It was indeed night. He _had_ fallen asleep, but, _no matter_ , he reckoned, as he once more glanced at the clock and noted the flashing neon of the display that told of the proximity to dawn – he still had enough time to pull through with the most imminent of his homework.

_But first though,_

A beat passed, another taking its place, before he deemed it safe to slowly get up, a single hand clenched hard around the tables wooden edge for balance as he, on slightly unsecure feet, managed his way out into the hallway connecting his room to the rest of the house. A palm kept to the wall in case he stumbled, teeth grit tightly against the dull throbbing that still reigned supreme in his head, as he made his way to the bathroom that Emma and he shared.

_A shower would probably do the trick._

The shadows were banished with the flick of his finger against the light switch, the pristine white of the tiles inside near blinding, briefly causing a new spike of pain to wreck through his still hurting skull, as they bounced the florescent light back and off of their polished squares.

 _Right_ , Jack gruffed lowly to himself, as he squinted at the fine, pinkish curve of a painted Peony - _better get on with it._

Clothing was quickly discarded, the sour scent that the pile of fabric emitted ignored and promptly buried along with the rest of the laundry, that he had mindlessly, albeit be it purposely, neglected, before he stepped in and worked the taps to get the water flowing. It was a cool relief against the mud in his head, the sharp pinpoints of freezing cold making his muscle contract enough that it seemed to chip and smooth out the ragged edges that fogged up the iris of his inner mind’s eye.

As his thoughts started to clear, he thought it safe to turn up the heat, Jack allowing himself a moment to bask in the quiet, peaceful calm that the waters warmth provided. Bit by bit, he felt the sore muscles in his neck protest the strain, as he craned it, the light pressure against his jugular from the spray that hit making his eyes fall closed on a soft, content sigh. Almost, if he willed it hard enough, he could pretend as if the prick of water was a caring caress, the touch of a hand tender, knuckles ginger in their glide, as they moved up further, slim, loving fingers skimming the tension that lingered to the curve of his jaw, the plush of his lip, pressing down on the bottom and-

A tad too shakily, Jack settled his own hands to the wall, unyielding tiles cool against his palms, a firm anchor amidst the sudden rush of electricity that shot through his abdomen, as he shuffled his feet and adjusted his stance a tad. Water was sent to cascade over his back and bended neck instead, a deep breath drawn into burning lungs, the steam that swayed light and clinging in their warm, semi-translucent dance, as Jack desperately tried to calm the beat of his hastened heart.

 _And while speaking of warmth_ , the small voice in the back of his mind purred at the mention, exhausted blues peeking open, the immortalized lines of a Hemlock staring back at him, as he lightly curled the tips of his fingers inwards and arched his back to relieve the worst of the pressure that still lingered in his spine _\- it would only be a month or so, before his next heat rolled around._

Idly, Jack turned the cold tap slightly more to the right in a solemn protest that he knew would hardly do him much good, fingers paused around warming metal, as he felt his face twitch up into something thoroughly unpleasant.

He hated it. Hated that the whole ordeal of the terrible burden bestowed onto him had been presented in a way that made sense while it all still seemed so... Well, _unfair_ , did not quite pack the punch. _Evil_ seemed too excessive. _Cruel, then?,_ he mused, as his hesitant hand cut the flow of water short.

Yeah _, cruel seemed more fitting indeed._

He got out, the hand that reached for a fresh, soft towel wrecked by tremors, the mirror before him foggy and remaining as nothing but a cold, empty canvas, its greyed façade showing nothing but the vague figures and gestures in its steamed state. Quickly, Jack patted himself dry, feet carrying him through the rest of the routine on instinct, before they led him back to his room to finish up with what of the most imminent work remained.

-

A hint of colour had started to show across the darkened line of the horizon, the appearance of the light whispering of the coming dawn between the lines of the blinds, as Jack huffed a worn-out breath across the mess of papers that he had mindlessly knocked to the side and off his table in pure frustration.

 _Fuck,_ he really needed to sleep _. Proper_ sleep _. Real_ sleep. _Preferably for a whole week straight._

 _Still_ , that annoying voice in the back of his mind scolded, the sound of dry paper flicking to the floor and settling across the light dust that he had ignored for perhaps a bit too long accompanying it, as Jack sneered and groaned into his clammy hands - _it would be a long way to go, before he could rightfully relax._

\--

‘’Skreeklavic said hi,’’ their mother offered, the tone chipper and ever coy, after she had hung up, the phone pocketed away, before both of her hands found the old leather of the cars steering wheel. ‘’He hopes that you are well.’’

Emma, bless her heart and working hands expertly remaining firm and focused on the soft fabric that she was tending to, did not react to the way her older brother had stiffened right beside her. ‘’A good week or so left, Jack,’’ their mother continued, as she glanced back at them both and then briefly to the side to make sure that the coast was clear for them to set into motion and head home ‘’isn’t it exciting? Aren’t you looking forward to it, at least a little bit?’’

Something sour settled over the tip of his tongue, as he bit down hard on it to keep himself from snapping back. It would do him no good. It would not change anything about his predicament. The events that had been set in motion.

Beside him, Emma, the little mercy of a menace, softly jabbed an elbow between his ribs to garner his attention and with a soft, albeit be it tense smile, Jack accepted the quiet offer of a bailout. Silver pearls found themselves trapped onto a deep, dark, midnight blue, the strong nylon that bound them circling closer in an ever ensnaring loop, before each and every one of them found themselves pinned. _A scarf,_ Emma had proudly explained, as Jack had asked for what it was meant to become. Slowly but surely, the pearls formed in delicate, deliberate patterns, the neat lines morphing into an intricate design of tightly packed snowflakes that rested heavily to each end of the long string of woven fabric.

In front, his mother’s smile fell then, a sharp gleam taking to her eye, as she returned her attention to the road instead with what had seemed a light frown, in the passing second that he had caught the gesture in his peripheral vision.

She was getting angry, Jack knew that. They _both_ knew that and Emma, bless her heart, bless her _patience_ , _bless_ her, did not falter in the slightest from the heavy beat that slithered out into the air and rendered it poison. Instead, she leaned closer to offer up a better view of what her hands were doing, upper body curled towards him, creating a space between them that better showed the way that her fingers moved to pin each pearl, each tiny little flake that formed onto the grander piece itself.

Softly, Jack ruffled her hair, a cheek leaned against the rough fabrics of the car seat above Emma’s own little head, as he kept his attention solely on her.

The rest of the drive home was spent in a tense silence in which, mercifully, their mother did not comment on the clear dismissal that he had opted to serve in return for what felt an ignorant taunt. A week. He had a week left to enjoy this.

_So be it, he would._

-

_Evening had fallen and once again, Jack found himself questioning the logic of it all._

His hands worked the pestle against the gruff valley of the mortar, crushing the herbs as he had done time and time again, when the risen demand and limited lines of neat, written cursive within his mothers schedule drew too short for her to keep up. The scent of it was far too much for his senses really, but he had agreed to participate. Softly, he nodded his head along to the recorded conversation of the documentary that he was not really paying much attention to, wrist flicking about in endless circles until finally, nothing but a thick paste remained beneath the relentless weight of granite.

Swiftly, he put it aside, a new set of jars with additional herbs and labels that he had only recently bothered to start memorizing to heart grabbed close. Off, the lids went, the metal discarded amongst the general clutter of the workspace, stone set to stone upon new freshly dried greys and green and on it went again, way into the night, way into the golden light of dawn that kissed his cheek and eased his frights.

Tiredly, he stretched his arms out wide over his head, a small _pop_ sounding from his back, as he stared at one of the numerous jars of fine, white liquid that lined the shelves beside him. He did not know exactly what it was, but it smelled a great deal like perfumed oil and the bitter sting of lemon and tequila.

 _Could he drink it?_ Jack thought to himself as he stared at it, wondering if it would have a hint of salt to its immediate aftertaste. Like liquid licorice. Or snake blood.

His arms lowered back down to his sides, drawn out yawn falling from thin lips, before his eyes noted the little skull that lingered at the edge of one of the handwritten labels hastily slapped onto its reflective side with a bit of transparent tape.

_Yeah, better not._

\--

‘’What’s a Megalodon?’’ Emma interrupted Jacks tall tale of a murderous rabbit riding the fabled animal through colourful coral and lost treasures, on a small incline of her head. A flash of steel glinting in the poor light of her lamp, as her little hands bullied the needle tucked between attentive fingers through the mess of patterns that Jack had long since given up on keeping track with.

The mischievous gleam already present in the latter’s eye stoked itself brighter, Jack remaining upside down on the pink linen of Emma’s bed. ‘’It was a giant shark, Flee. A vicious _monster_ that could swallow an entire skyscraper in just one big gulp,’’ a sly grin formed, as he gestured out with his hands to indicate the sheer size of it.

‘’I don’t believe that.’’

‘’Oh but it’s _true_.’’

‘’Is not.’’

 _‘’Is too,’’_ Jack huffed, a little laugh stuck in his throat at the incredulous glare that she shot his way. ‘’Would I ever lie to you?’’ he challenged, hand finding the place above his heart, a playful hint of hurt in his tone.

A beat of quiet fell. Then, ‘’How did it die?’’ Emma finally asked on a hushed and a tad bit frightened voice that did not quite manage to sound as uninterested in the topic, as she had probably hoped for it to be.

Jack rolled around, palm settled under his chin, shins pressed to the linen, as he watched her work. ‘’It ate everything in the sea until there was nothing left at all,’’ he said, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, fingers drumming against the curve of his jaw, as he noted the intricate swirl of two snowflakes that overlapped on top of a third. The whole thing glinted gently, as the hands that held moved it about. ‘’It starved to death as a result.’’

The needle paused, sharp tip hovering just above woven fabrics, as Emma’s face scrunched up into something slightly puzzled and thoroughly unimpressed. ‘’That’s stupid.’’

 _‘’Yeah,’’_ Jack quietly agreed, his smile warm and content, as he fished out his phone and checked the display for any updates from Jamie on whether or not their prolonged mission was a success. None. Still nothing. His inbox perfectly empty safe for a single notification for him to extend his library card and kindly pay the bill for the book that served to prop up that one leg of his table, which always seemed too short no matter how much he managed to alleviate the height of the other three.

‘’Yeah,’’ Jack repeated on a voice a tad more hushed than it had been before, the screen of his phone going black with a subtle _click_. ‘’I guess it was pretty dumb actually.’’

\--

\- Two weeks later –

_Had these lame events always been this fucking loud?_

The scent of sickly-sweet cherries clogged the air, the proud display of blooming roses littering the grand length of the table in a straight, perfect line, their less presentable brethren’s petals spread out in between each gilded vase, under the ornamental trays – _and in them for that matter too._

_Fucking pretentious._

A soft chime of laughter broke out to his immediate left, Saschas amused gaze cast in the flickering light of warm orange from the numerous candles strewn about, as she waved a hand at whatever it was that William had said to her from his own place straight across the table.

_No. No, there was nothing romantic about this at all._

A tad stiffly, Jack attempted to flick a bright red petal off his knee, only to find it curl from the harsh movement, the soft, squishy flesh of it stuck partially under his nail and clinging to the tip of his finger.

 _Trapped_ , he realized as he picked at it. It was trapped. _Trapped._ A _trap, all of it - a caged canary stuck in a burning mine, just waiting for the approaching plume of smoke to kill its fragile lungs and render its lithe frame lifeless from the merciless kiss of carbon monoxide_.

_Stuck._

_A perfect gamble. The sense of expectancy clear, the road ahead paved already, each stone laid into hard, unmoving soil packed with the promise of a necessary result sought out for the sake of the greater good._

Idly, Jack picked at the crimson still stuck under his nail.

_Lame._

The practiced words burned in his mouth, the gravity of them rendering his appetite null, the stained steel of the spoons handle in his grip instantly fogging in a circle of light grey beneath the tip of his finger, as Jack willed himself to at least steal a few bites of the flayed duck that served as tonight’s main coarse down. He wished that it would taste ashen in his mouth. He wished that it would taste stale and uncharacteristic, but alas, the flavour remained strong, vibrant in its combination of spice and texture.

 _Well,_ Jack thought to himself, eyes daring a quick peek at the grandfather clock in the shaded corner of the cherry-scented room as he chewed on the tender meat. An hour left.

_All that was left for him to do was to sit and-_

Sascha flinched from the startling, loud _clang_ , as the spoon fell from limp fingers and back into the bowl in front of Jack, the steaming soup leaving scorching, little pinpoints across his hand and a few on his wrist as well. Swiftly, he hid his nerves behind an equally startled smile, tremoring fingers retreating back under the table, as most of the ones gathered around it grew quiet in mild shock and curiosity.

_Fuck,_

He ignored the prying gaze that William directed at him, the chair scrapping across the floor with a gritting noise like nails across a chalkboard, as Jack politely excused himself with a dismissive hand waving the worried chatter that Sascha threw at him away. Breath stuck in throat, gaze stinging from fright, he knew that at least one pair of eyes traced his moving form as he abruptly tucked tail and fled.

-

The thick strands of the carpets, located in one of the more frequented parts of the estate, swallowed up the sounds of his gentle footfalls through the hallway, the sting of artificial lemon curled around his tongue, as it seeped out from the hard candy hidden away in his cheek. The framed paintings of his old, long deceased blood silently judging him from within their gilded gold and hard, polished wood, faint traces of incense and the burnt scent of candle wax hanging heavily in the air, accompanying him, as he went ahead with purposeful strides.

_Thirty minutes left,_

A light breeze swept through, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, hugging about his form, as a cold gust of wind graced his cheek in a soft whisper of a caress.

_Twenty-eight,_

A tad idly, uncertain if this truly was the best way to proceed, Jack blinked, tired eyes filled with nothing but a fierce determination observing the way that the curtains blew gently without a sound in the light thrum of the playful wind. This could only really go one of two ways.

_Twenty-seven,_

The window behind the curtains was cracked slightly open, the hints of green, from a warmer night in winter than usual, of the garden, which spread out before him, fading into grey, where the light no longer touched. It spoke of an eerie vacancy. A silent space void of any judgement. Any expectations. The reaching shadows creeping fourth from under the withered bushes, the perfect black beckoning with promises of the immediate, albeit be it primitive, shelter that only the deep cover of night could bring.

_Twenty-five,_

Jacks hands had removed the latch, the rusty squeak of hinges desperately in need of oil loud in the pressing quiet, fingers pressed to the cold plain of the glass, as he pushed the window open further before he could think better of it.

-

Pitch, leaned against the rough bricks of the low wall that served as a banister, stood out on one of the three balconies that the estate provided. A grey tendril of smoke from a lit cigarette mingling with the crisp air, arms folded over the brickwork, as his thrice ignored phone angrily buzzed away in his pocket. Slowly, he exhaled, a light plume of smoke escaping thin lips, neck craned ever so slightly, as he glared up at the cloudless expanse of sky until the twinkle of the stars started to feel more as if a mock than any fixed, unbiased, faraway flame.

 _Poetic_ , Djinni tended to call such observations. Not that the abstract painters opinions on his inner dialogue mattered. _No, it was far more pragmatic than that at the best of times and at the worst-_

He looked down just in time to see a mop of stark, white hair sneaking off towards the tree-line, making Pitch scoff under his breath at the sight of several treats stuffed into the runaways pockets.

Almost as though instantly rooted, veins filled with lead, the figure froze, as he addressed it,

‘’Sascha’s looking for you.’’

Pitch could not see much of his face, but knew the expression that bloomed across said others to be a guilty one. A beat passed, an interesting twitch going through Jacks tense shoulders, as the other lowered his head before setting in motion, back towards the house.

_Well then._

The invasive ivy rustled to his left, a flash of blinding white glinting in the sharp light of the single lamp placed to the space right beside the door leading back into the house, back into the fray of chatting mouths and a seemingly endless supply of honeyed almonds, before Jack emerged over the top of the rocky ledge itself. What looked like the crushed remains of a croissant fell to its doom, as the slender rascal of an idiot gracefully vaulted himself over and onto the balcony.

Pitch had been about to fish out another cigarette, the previous one left discarded beneath his crushing heel, when Jacks meddling affairs once more caught him off guard in a manner that only he seemed capable off,

‘’Would you claim me?’’

The wind ruffled his raven hair, the butt of the cig squashed and stale between the tips of paused fingers, as Pitch lamely held it still in disbelief. A beat passed, another taking its place before Pitch huffed, the tips of said fingers flicking out to dispel the unlit distraction so that he could turn to leave whatever trouble this sudden mess of a ludicrous proposition was surely to become.

‘’Please?’’ Jacks small voice called behind him with all the vigour of one that had surely lost his mind, brain dripping out his ears from an overindulgence in whatever dramatic shows that this event must have inspired. Still, Pitch stopped at the sound of a shaky breath of air being drawn. If not for the pleading undertone, then for the sheer desperation and terror thrown at his back, as Jack resorted to begging. ‘’Pitch _please_.’’

The hint of sand was rough beneath his heel, a sweeping gust of wind cold, making them both shiver lightly, as Pitch turned enough to throw a clipped ‘’Why?’’ over his shoulder.

In front, Jack fisted his hands by his sides, shoulders squared, tone as serious as it was void of any jest. ‘’Because I'm scared, aight? I don't want this. I don't want to become Lermantoffs mate.’’

Softly, Pitch hummed. That, if anything, explained the cheery-scented roses. ‘’Then say as much-‘’

‘’ _They don't care_ ,’’ Jack urged. ‘’I don't have a _choice_ in this.’’

‘’Nonsense.’’

‘’ _Please_.’’

Pitch turned fully, as the other took a significant step towards him. ‘’Why would you ask me of all people? Surely you have other options.’’

A tad stiffly, Jack shook his head. ‘’I don't,’’ he pressed. ‘’I really don't.’’

It was quiet for a beat, the wind weaving between them and making the withered trees ahead sway with a haunting cry.

‘’I don't want you.’’

At that, Jack cracked a tired, little smile. ‘’I don't really want you either, ’’ he admitted, to which Pitch huffed.

‘’Then this seems a little insane, don't you think?’’

Pitch stayed as he was, as Jack took three more steps towards him, rendering the distance close enough to see the blur in the latter’s eye, as Jack seemingly grit his teeth in stubborn defiance. ‘’Between Lermantoff and you,’’ he swallowed thickly, knuckles going white from strain ‘’-you're the preferable choice.’’

Pitch paused for a second, head inclined ever so slightly in genuine puzzlement. ‘’Surely he's not _that_ horrible-‘’

‘’He's wanted my hand since I was ten,’’ Jack swiftly interrupted, bottom lip sucked between teeth, as he once more shook his head. ‘’I never wanted him. I never will. My mom knows as much.’’

Be it a stroke of luck or something else, something more divine than the annoying glow from the watching moon above, Pitchs phone stopped its tedious vibrations. ‘’You've told her?’’ he stressed, to which Jack firmly nodded his head in a _yes_.

‘’I have. Several times.’’

The quiet that fell after that declaration felt stifling. Then, Pitchs brow shut up, voice entirely serious, every bit prepared to carry through with the act in the face of the realization that this was no dramatized play at all,

‘’I could offer to have you kidnapped?’’ he said and in front, Jacks mouth cracked up into a sad little smile, a sense of hopeless wonder present in his eye.

‘’It’s too late for that I’m afraid, but I would have appreciated it. A lot. Really, I would, but… I can’t really get outta this situation in any other way than this. Please, I know it’s sudden, I know it’s _insane,_ but-‘’ Jack paused for a breath, the air that he drew dragged straight into burning lungs, before finally, he took the last step towards Pitch. ‘’Please,’’ Jack pressed one last time, icy blues blinking up at the other. ‘’Please help me. You're a petty jerk but you're not violent.’’

 _What a tall thing to order in such a neutral setting,_ Pitch thought to himself, as he took the others distressed appearance in, the red that clung around bitten nails, the stifling scent of rotten cherries - o _r, perhaps, perhaps it was fitting indeed._

Softly, albeit be it with a tad more resolve, he hummed in thought. '’Is there a significant reason as to why this cannot wait?’’

In front, Jack nodded. ‘’Several.’’

‘’How long do we have?’’

‘’Less than a quarter.’’

 _‘’That’s-‘’_ on a drawn out exhale, Pitch somehow managed to suppress the urge to growl.

‘’No time at all, I know,’’ Jack helpfully butted in with all the sense of haste that this situation really bestowed onto them both.

Again, Pitch hummed, ‘’It would take at least a year before I could divorce you,’’ he stressed and in front, Jacks eyes lit up with something urgent, a hint of a desperate emotion flashing through the immediate relief that followed in its fleeting wake.

‘’I'm fine with that.’’

‘’There'll be no physical activity between us.’’

‘’ _Very_ fine with that.’’

Jack was obedient and tense, as Pitch settled a hand to his shoulder and urged him to turn, fingers moving with all the grace of one on a mission finding their way under the hem of the former’s hoodie and carefully tugging it aside. The skin beneath was slightly raised and offended, stark, red trails of nails no doubt dragged repeatedly over the gland in a fit of nerves. Gingerly, as unfamiliar with the proceedings as Jack was, Pitchs hand settled to the other side of the others neck, Jacks shaking own fisted in the lower parts of his hoodie.

As he breathed in a shallow breath, it trembled, ‘’Will it hurt?’’ Jack asked, as Pitch gently tapped and prodded at the mark to get it to respond.

‘’Fuck if I know,’’ Pitch responded on a rasp of a voice, as he caressed and squeezed the tender mark until he finally felt it start to harden.

The wind howled, the rustling of withered leaves torn from their dormant branches loud, as the creaking door behind them slid open on old and weathered hinges, causing the frightened idiot in his arms to tense up even further. A tall shadow fell upon Pitchs back, a beat of quiet passing, as they waited for the newcomer to speak,

 _‘’Jack?’’_ Lermantoffs cousin called as it became clear that neither would acknowledge his hovering presence.

Below moving fingers, the mark finally became soft and yielding, the arm around Jack tightening in warning, as Pitch lowered his head and settled his mouth to it. ‘’In a minute, Skreeklavic,’’ Pitch responded, breath fanning across tense, flushed skin, before his teeth found their mark.

Promptly, Jack howled in startled pain, as he bit down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno fam, Emma's the real mvp in this mess.
> 
> Great, gotcha, story is all set up and we can start for real now. Next up… I guess damage control and a slight bit of controlled chaos?
> 
> \--
> 
> EDIT: I lost a couple subscribers after this chapter went up and I'm honestly curious as to why exactly - if it's plot, shitty grammar or just tone in general. Or lack of immediate smut, I dunno. Like I really don't wanna waste anyone's time here, if you're expecting this to be the typical ABO story then srry fam, this ain't it. But legit, I'm curious. This hasn't happened to me before and ngl I'm a little intimidated. I'm still not really sure what I'm doing in terms of writing, I'm kinda just vibing out more than anything. Any further chapters might be delayed as a result and in the meantime imma get back to 'Embrace the storm' instead. I hope you good though. Take care. See you.. eventually.


	4. Repotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the turn of conversation is barely civil. And then it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sike! Who am I kidding, I forgot that I’m supposed to write for myself and myself alone, and not base the joy of that, on whether or not people stick around. Regardless of that, this mess of a fic /did/ actually end up with more subscribers already than I expected it to, so hi? How are ya? Did you remember to eat today?
> 
> Tags’ been updated! Have another chapter! Bye! I’m gone! Gone I say! *Tired laughter*
> 
> \---  
> Warnings: drug use but not really
> 
> I'm stressed out over exams and covid. Spell checking is lacking as a result but I'll get around to that in the morning.
> 
> Aight, enjoy <3

‘’ _This is outrageous-’’_ the scathing remark rolled off a motherly tongue curled in disgust, the tone buttered in pine and lemony needles - a strong bark bleeding bitter trails of sour accusations so heavily into the air, that it almost, just barely, drowned out the scent of rotten cherries. ‘’Have you no _decency?’’_ She barked, as she paced back and forth.

In front, cornered, keeping his back to the wall, Pitch kept his arms crossed over his chest, expression set in a manner that was entirely bored of the affair already. ‘’I have been perfectly in my right to claim a willing mate.’’

‘’A willing mate does not scream, Pitch,’’ Katherine, arms likewise folded, peeped in from across the table where she had stayed.

The silence that settled over what remained of the hastily disbanded gathering felt palpable. Until, with a lowered eye, Jack looked towards his fuming mother, each ignored step that she paced increasing in their acute anger. ‘’Mother, I-‘’

_‘’You keep your mouth shut young man.’’_

Katherine’s fingers splayed flat to the intricate lace of the table runner twitched, the swift look that she shared with William under a furrowed brow loaded with something, that Jack hardly had the time to decipher.

‘’Well,’’ Jacks mother's sharp tone continued, the subtle chime of the grandfather clock striking once for the passing of midnight, as her eye fell on him like a bad, backfired spell ‘’do you want this?’’

The clock struck twice,

‘’I did.’’

‘’As in past tense or-‘’

‘’I do, I _do_ want this,’’ the clock struck thrice, the thrumming reverberation cutting straight through Jacks constricted jugular, as he swallowed something thick and hard, hands shaking from the pain that stabbed through his neck, the acute pinpoint of bodily hurt honing in on that single spot from the movement. ‘’I still do. I still _want_ this.’’

It was awful. As awful as the pressing guilt that he was the direct cause of the forming bruise, that kissed the line of Pitchs clenched jaw.

‘’And, am I to believe such a weak claim?’’

To his side, Katherine looked conflicted by the repeated challenging, while William just seemed confused. The clock stroke on its seventh toll, as Jack locked eyes with Skreeklavic instead of humoring the drilling, pointed gaze directed straight at his head by the man’s cousin.

‘’I do,’’ he repeated, as Skreeklavic threw a small smile in return for Jacks hesitant own. ‘’I really do want this, I _do_.’’

 _And really_ , Jack allowed himself to deduct, as the last of the decaying cherries started to ferment - _Skreeklavic did not seem sad in the least, only mildly surprised by the turn in arranged events; the omegan hands haven fisted in the back of his blazer to get the man to relent, to stall the swift action, of what had been considered a violent threat._

The protective gesture had almost been flattering in its own perverse way.

The toll of the ninth sounded, the sting of bitter lemon increasing in hostility from more than just the seething, ignored serpent’s sneer, a heavy scent of something powdery and sharp cutting in instead,

‘’Well, then, if that is ultimately the case, then _off_ ,’’ the beat of tense quiet was interrupted by the tunes of conditional, motherly love. ‘’Off you go. Off,’’ she waved at him, a single shoulder jerking out in dismissive gesture, where the head attached failed to move, to acknowledge the worn body of her own flesh and blood. ‘’Go pack your stuff and go.’’

 _Gunpowder_ , Jack realized. _Smokey and dry, the anger clear and acute, flashing teeth cradled by a set of lips curled in a thin, hard grimace, the line drawn in a place where defeat was not an option. A matchstick, waiting to be lit. A flaming inferno coated in venom. Clogging and stifling. Suffocating fingers curled in their straggling hold to claim his disobeying focus and-_

 _No_ , Jack reckoned, neck throbbing with each turn of his head, as he met the burning eyes of the fuming drake head-on with stinging own, that had forgotten to blink – _that was just how Lermantoff used his alpha charms to force his way in anything and everything._

This time though, victory would not be his. The bodily alter lost to the great unknown and the whisper of familiarity in the bruise of abuse that wrapped around Jacks own, slender wrist. A bailout, all of this had been. A successful one, unlike the decimating press of red-hot anger that longed to eat him whole.

Willing his eyes away from the aggressive press of pheromones that tried to fuck with his brain, to misuse his second gender in a way that caused even Pitch to arch a brow in subtle, slightly disturbed causality and for Katherine to sniff at the air, Jack focused back to anything else than the coat of offended scales still glaring an ever wider tear in his violated nerves. ‘’Am I expected to skedaddle like, _right now?’’_

The clock struck twelve, stiff, contemplating amber refusing to meet with the pressing wave of searching blue, as Jacks mother huffed a low, gritting tune in return,

‘’If you please, that would be for the best, given the path you’ve just chosen.’’

Again, Katherine, this time longer, shared another glance with William, Sascha’s incredulous stare too seeming genuinely surprised, if not a little perplexed, at the casual anger to the impersonal departure, from her politely silent, lounging spot in the far corner of the room as well.

A long beat of quiet passed, the flickering of a candle spluttering, sending dancing shadows like wagging fingers out across the lace lining the center of the nearly abandoned table. Softly, it fizzled out with a dry hiss.

Another long beat passed,

‘’Well, if it’s all the same to you,’’ Katherine started on a tone that sounded a tad too merry, if not forcedly so, as she moved from her own chair and across the length of the table towards the door leading out into the connecting hallway. ‘’I'll help out with the packing and anything else that needs to be done. Maybe water a few plants or something on the way, if that’s all good with you?’’

On a single nod without much enthusiasm, Jacks mother accepted it.

‘’So uh,’’ Jack said, the hand scratching into the hairs on the back of his neck catching on a loose knot that sent his nerves reeling with renewed hurt. ‘’I guess I’ll just?’’ he winched, front of feet already pointed in the direction of where Katherine was waiting by the else empty frame of the opened door ahead.

The room stayed quiet, the remaining gathered tense and unsure, sans the only two conspirators that had had yet to as much as glance at each other, since Pitch had been dragged along and practically shoved against the back of an, at that time, still occupied chair.

_Gods, his amber had been fierce. Focused. Shoulders squared, arms raised, fingers curled like wicked talons, perfectly ready for the attack to come that Jack had somehow, bodily managed to get in between with a shout that had seized the attention of the remaining, privately gathered-_

The clock had fallen silent. The scent of gunpowder snapping in the air, popping with little intervals that threatened to send his stomach reeling with unease, as Jack realized that his spontaneous mate in question had pushed on ahead and out of the door without a single word to spare for his own sense of honour and questioned morality.

Fuck,

 _‘’Right. Right I’ll just-’’_ each step felt like a mile, the stubborn cherries stuffing his nose anew with their fertile whispers, as he swiftly hurried after.

-

A hesitant finger traced out over the abused claim on his neck, thick lines of deep blue framed by dents of teeth shooting out, like tendrils of ink. Nerves tingling all the way out into his toes. It felt strange to prod at it. It looked terrible, an ugly patch of-

A pair of grey eyes met his in the mirror. The quick peek barely lasted a fourth second,

_Of course, she would notice._

Katherine's gaze went wide, her form moving, hands abandoning the bag that she tended to, the items moved about for better use of the limited space. She was on her feet, before Jack could do anything, the distance closed in a matter of beats. Gently, she pried the hand aside that he had instinctually held over his neck, tone low and gritting from a suspicious idea prematurely confirmed. _‘’Celeste’s tits,’’_ she said under her breath, voice disgusted. ‘’Jack, _did you?_ Was this _actually_ consensual at all?’’

Two bags already stood ready by the door, the third and last halfway there. Just a little more, a few precious belongings to snatch close, that he had not the heart to leave behind, missing amongst the weight already collected.

In front, the stormy grey hardened, the willingness for violence clear,

_‘’Did you want this or are you lying to cover up for him?’’_

‘’No no, it was, it _was_ , no worries,’’ a hand shot up in defense, Jack winching, as the movement tugged on the stiffness in his neck. Katherine did not look convinced, the thickening of clouds promising hail and gelid bites if she caught him in a lie and idly, Jacks own shot back to the half full backpack, the various trinkets of passing times and better arrangements that littered about it. ‘’Look. _I_ approached him in this mess, alright? I know it looks pretty weird and... Look, I know it looks _bad_ but...’’

The unspoken trail and subsequent destination of that sentence hung in the air between them, a hint of ice forming around the narrowed points of grey. ‘’You know that this will not be binding if it was forced.’’

 _Gods_. _What a joke._

Jack suppressed his laughter at that, tired smile still holding a tint of genuine care to the offered compassion for his safety. ‘’Yeah, I know.’’

A beat of quiet passed between them.

Then, Katherine’s mouth set in a hard, contemplating line. ‘’Blink twice if you're being held hostage,’’ she roughed on a voice entirely serious, eyes widening, as Jack did just that. ‘’Oh that little _rat_ -’’

‘’Kidding, _kidding_ ,’’ Jack waved the hand that he had raised earlier, tone as exhausted by the whole ordeal, as it was strained from lack of any true explanation to offer up, in the face of the others acute desperation to understand. ‘’I was joking.’’

In front, Katherine merely glared. ‘’This is no joking manner, Jack.’’

‘’I’m thoroughly aware.’’

‘’And as thus you really have to-‘’

‘’Kat, I _know.’’_

Another beat of quiet passed, the subtle whine of the wind rapping the thin sheets of plastic that covered the partly open window against its wooden frame.

‘’I _know_ , aight?’’ Jack repeated, the fingers that had clutched to her upper arm in order to keep her grounded relenting one by one, before falling back to lay dormant at his side. A tad stiffly, he shrugged. ‘’I know I can’t except you to accept it. I can’t _ask_ you to accept any of this, I _know_ , but _please_. Please respect my choice.’’

A significant dent in the icy grey caused Katherine to breathe out a heavy breath, which came dangerously close to a sigh. ‘’You call me if anything changes. You got that?’’ she insisted. ‘’No violence, Jack. If he lays hand on you, you call. If he forbids you to leave the house, you call. Understood?’’

The last bag still had to be packed. This was all dragging out. With another little shrug, this one a tad more noncommittal, Jack inclined his head at her. ‘’And if he burns everything he tries to cook?’’

Loudly, the clearing grey rolled about in their sockets. _‘’Then you open a fucking window and call in takeaway.’’_

-

The air was cool and crisp, hinting on freezing from the late hour that had passed the mark of half past midnight, as Jack stepped out onto the front steps, worn flip-flops trotting over the rough stone and light spray of sand spread out to keep any pedestrians from slipping. Above, the stars twinkled gently.

_Such a perfect night to be out,_

Jack craned his neck and breathed it all in, the straps strung over his shoulder digging into his collarbone, creating a generous depression in the fabric of his light winter coat. Beside him, narrowed and as attentive as ever, amber flared, as Pitch placed what remained of a lit cigarette to his lip and breathed in deep, the smoke kept in his lung, savoring it. A plume of drifting grey fled from his thin mouth, obscuring the bruise that hugged his jaw for all of a beat.

‘’Are we all ready to go, or is there anything you still need to get done first?’’

The lean body of the still smoldering cig was squashed under his heel, as Pitch discarded it on the ground beside its likewise crushed brethren, the man making no attempt to kick it off to the side, ash leaving a contrasting stain of pure black across the light grey of the leading steps.

‘’Nah. I think I’m all good really. All set and all that.’’

A beat of quiet passed, the brow that Pitch arched almost audible through the questioning tone, ‘’Am I to understand that you do not own any proper shoes?’’ he remarked, to which Jack threw back a small smile, the latter’s face screwing up, as the small movement made his entire neck flare in pain. Idly, Jack instinctually hunched his shoulder up to his ear to alleviate the worst of it.

‘’I never really cared for such.’’

It seemed to give the other pause for a beat, a confused gleam passing through contemplating amber. ‘’Because of finances or for the sake of comfort?’’

The pavement spreading out where the last of the leading steps ended sparkled under the dim lights from a streetlamp, the sparse patches of lingering snow still clinging to the ground, equaled with the gelid ice and true cold of a wicked winter that had long since come and gone, leaving it torn and full of holes.

‘’I don’t really know how to answer that. I guess I just don’t really care enough to… well, _care_. This,’’ Jack said, as he wiggled his toes a bit for emphasis, the scrape of sand against hard plastic skittering on his nerves from the feat ‘’never really bothered me in the first place. The cold, that is. Or the shoes. Or, well, _lack of such.’’_

The wind blew through the withered bushes that lined the front of the, at least from the outside, eerily silent estate - a hint of green buds pushing out amongst naked, curling branches, new leaves ready to sprout, to grow, to strengthen.

_They would be going towards spring soon,_

Pitch did not seem emotionally invested enough to comment on that admission, the hand that he had freed prying the carried bag from Jacks hand and pushing on ahead without any further fuzz. Swiftly, if a tad unsteadily, Jack adjusted one of the two on his shoulder and followed after.

The streets were as deserted as ever at this time of the hour, nothing but a stray cat prancing the pavement up ahead.

 _‘’Ah,’’_ Jack, distracted from watching the little critter take off into the shadows that lay beyond any reach of light, exclaimed, as he realized that Pitch had stopped only mere meters from the front door that they had turned their backs on, a slightly bored gleam present in the amber, as the man held the backdoor of a sleek, black car open for him. ‘’Thank you.’’

Both bags were discarded into the waiting space of the backseat, the third passed along by Pitchs hand as well. ‘’No need.’’ For a moment, Jack could only blink, lost for any measures on how to proceed. ‘’Well?’’ Pitch remarked, the tone thinned, as he noted the halted gesture.

‘’Am I going in front?’’

‘’Would you prefer to take the back?’’

‘’I mean… No?’’

As no further comment was passed, and as a raven head disappeared from view, Jack took the hint and climbed in on the front passenger seat as well. The car itself, despite the immediate smell of smoke and a faint trace of something that he could not quite place, was ridiculously clean – the underlying theme of it all kind of woody.

_Acorn maybe. A rich aroma with the sweet traces of pure vanilla._

Beside him, after having slammed his door with far more strength than was strictly needed, Pitch fished out his phone, fingers tapping away in a flurry, whatever urgent message he had worked sent, before he opened the little compartment under the dashboard and nonchalantly, screen purposefully downturned, threw it inside.

Almost immediately, it started vibrating from an incoming call, the reverberations causing the bits of papered clutter, packed tightly amongst a sea of smaller trinkets, to sway from the aggression.

Somehow, Pitch managed to frown deeper.

‘’You know,’’ Jack started, as the other pushed a bundle of silvery fur, that looked like gloves but could easily have been something else, aside ‘’you can adjust the volume of the vibration a bit if it’s bothering you.’’

Lightly, Pitch offered up a hum in return, a small package retrieved out of the compartment, before it too was shut tight. ‘’I suppose as is with your lack of care for any proper footwear, as is it with my own for that hellish device.’’

‘’Just put it to silent then?’’

Here, Pitch at least seemed to grin a bit, though there was no humour lost in the gesture. Without a word, he held the little package out for Jack to take. A strong scent of lavender and something sweeter emanated from it, the unsuspecting bundle of cloth wrapped around something firm and hard. Idly, Jack willed his nails to leave the little half-circles that he had pressed into his palm behind, before he reached out and accepted it. ‘’What is this?’’ he asked, as he turned it about in said palm.

‘’A form of smelling salt but made in a solid state,’’ Pitch explained, as Jack pressed fingers to the unyielding core trapped within the light brown fabric. ‘’Put it close to your nose and breathe it in. Don't unwrap the cloth. It would burn your hand.’’

‘’You speak from experience?’’ Jack asked, as the muffled sounds of the phones trapped vibrations finally died down.

‘’Yes.’’

A tad hesitantly, still on guard for any potential threat that the harmless thing could provide, Jack braved himself and did as requested,

_Fuck-_

The effect was immediate, the rippling sensation of tingles that snapped down his spine going all the way out into his toes, the slowed breath that stuttered out leaving his head spinning, thin, startled whine tumbling from slack, parted lips, before he could stop it _. ‘’That's-‘’_ Jack managed on an unsteady voice wrecked by the sudden numbness that panged through the forefronts of his mind and left him seeing stars.

‘’Quite strong, I know.’’

Blinking rapidly, Jacks brow furrowed, as a cold sensation crawled out across his hands and left his fingers pleasantly vacant of any sensation at all, the effects a calming balm to his frayed nerves. This felt good. Way too good really, and for a horrifying beat, he waited to see if it was intended to knock him out. If he would find himself waking to a bathtub full of ice, spleen missing, neat little stitches lining his sides in crisscrosses of offended red.

_Or wait, was it the liver that the stories usually told of?_

‘’Why?’’ Jack finally asked, when his slurring tongue felt as though it would not melt right out of his mouth.

A low hum sounded beside him. A snap of startled tension running through Jacks slumped shoulders, as Pitchs hand settled into white hair, the blunt of nails raking over his scalp in a way that felt entirely too addicting. Too gentle, for their current predicament. The touch scratched in lazy circles downwards, slightly out, ginger tips deliberately going in the opposite direction of the thrumming mark, before it stilled across the space behind his ear, the moments slowed enough to barely register.

Pitch held on just long enough, that Jack felt himself start to relax.

‘’Because you still reek of fear.’’

Idly, unable to stop his heavy head from tilting back against the seat of the car, eyes falling shut in bliss, Jack pressed the tip of his tongue to the back of his teeth, the single thought remaining trapped within his tingling skull,

_That's not quite what I meant with that._

Another tiny beat of prolonged quiet passed between them. Then, Pitchs amber moved, a serious heaviness coating his tone,

‘’Do you reckon that Lermantoff poses a threat to either of us, that I will have to take seriously?’’

A tad deliriously, Jack drummed his numb fingers to the armrest, the package held a little further from his face, as he inhaled its scent. ‘’Honestly?’’ he rasped on a slowed drawl, as his head spun anew from its effects. ‘’Yeah, I think you gotta.’’

Softly, Pitch hummed, the touch settling further down, across the nape of a reddened neck. ‘’Anyone else?’’ he pressed, to which Jack shrugged in a halted, stiff manner, the latter’s face screwing up, when the movement pulled at his neck as it had with the last. If anything, the sensation seemed a little duller.

‘’Well, Katherine might slice you up real good if she finds a reason to. She's kinda been waiting for a chance to feed you to her geese for a couple years now.’’

At that, Pitch huffed a dour tune that came dangerously close to a chuckle. _‘’I bet.’’_

Again, it grew quiet. Then, ‘’Are you certain that you have said your goodbyes for now?’’ Pitch pressed one last time, to which Jacks eyes loudly rolled around behind their closed eyelids.

‘’I already did to those that would give a shit. All except for Emma but it's too late to-...’’ Jack roughed on a slight whine, as the five grounding pinpoints of calming heat left his neck and settled to the steering wheel instead. ‘’So yeah,’’ eyes snapped open, blurry blues blinking rapidly before they squinted out towards the dark, empty road ahead of them, the little bundle of fabric pressed close to his face again. ‘’I’m all good.’’

With little verbal reaction to the dismissive tone, Pitch stiffly nodded, fingers drumming to sleek, perfect leather. He looked as though a string of words were bubbling on the tip of his tongue, an eager insight clawing its way through to get out, to be voiced aloud. A tad beaten, he let out a strained sigh instead, narrowing amber staring at something in the distance, as his mouth thinned. ‘’It’s going to give you a headache if you continue to breathe it in like that,’’ Pitch remarked, as he gestured at the package in Jacks lightly tremoring hand. ‘’And, eventually make you nauseous as well. It’s only meant for a minute of consumption at a time.’’

The little bundle was put down at chest height, glazed over blues peeking through lazily blinking eyelids. ‘’Still speaking from experience?’’ Jack asked, as Pitch placed an insistent palm over the top of the wrapped package and forced it lower still.

This time, as Pitch huffed, the tone sounded slightly more annoyed than it had been with the last. _‘’Yes.’’_

_-_

A quick glance at the car’s display told that at least an hour had passed, when Jacks phone buzzed in his pocket. Stinging eyes were quick to blink them of their blur, as he brought it out to read the name of the sender, and more importantly, the short preview attached to it. The short notification vanished again, but really, the text had told him enough,

_‘Fox got the hen’_

With his smile stretching wider from equaled fright and excitement, itching eyes once more falling closed, Jack rested his weight back against the door of the car and tried to find the same position that he had been in.

As the minutes faded into nothingness, the little bundle of fabrics wrestled from his hand as Pitch realized that Jack was no longer lucid enough to hold onto it, he managed to drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, actual healthy family dynamics that I didn’t think I was capable of writing. Also, at this point, this is looking out to be a 75.000 word fic, quite possibly more. Just beware of that. The plot-points kept weaving themselves together and at this point, Imma need cheat sheets to keep track.  
> Lastly, as mentioned, tags have been slightly updated.
> 
> Aight, bye. Take care.


End file.
